How Times Have Changed
by jilyjackson
Summary: Juliette Lucas is a normal girl. She has a normal friend, a normal school, and a normal life living with her single mother in France. When her mother gets a last-minute business trip to America, however, and takes Juliette along, old secrets are dug up, and Juliette may just get to find out the story that she has been waiting for her entire life: the story of her father.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Starcrossed _series, nor any of its franchise. I will readily relinquish claims to my story if owner of _Starcrossed _so wishes. I do not own the image used to display this FanFiction, nor do I own the quote.**

**Rating: T (swearing; adult content)**

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**Our stories come from our lives and from the playwright's pen, the mind of the actor, the roles we create, the artistry of life itself and the quest for peace.**

******-Maya Angelou**

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Prologue

**Thunder crackled in the distance.**

A woman hurried through the rain, her blonde curls tucked into the collar of her coat. Her heels clicked on the asphalt, and though they splashed into more than a few puddles, spraying mud up the back of her calves, she never once stopped. Around her, people did similar things. A crowd had surrounded the Nantucket Ferry; tourists eager to be off of the island. They all chatted to each other in muted whispers, the only other sound aside from the chattering ferry crowd was the patter of rain splashing in puddles and on umbrellas.

A small group was huddling under a television store awning. It was designed like a store made half a century ago, with rows of televisions advertised in the shop window, which read TV STORE in big, bold letters. The speakers were turned on as the screen in the biggest television switched to a pretty brunette reporter. The blonde woman paused for the first time since walking all the way from her house, straining her ears to listen.

"- and they're saying that this is going to be the worst storm in years," the brunette woman said, her pearly teeth flashing as she spoke. "Hurricane James is heading up north, unusual for a storm this powerful. Typically, storms of this multitude tend to strike lower areas, such as the Gulf of Mexico, Puerto Rico, and the Bahamas." Her face was schooled serious.

The blonde-haired woman snorted under her breath, and turned a worried look to the ferry. If the boat was docked due to the hurricane, then all of her plans would be ruined. She bit her lip, turning her brown eyes down to her stomach. She had already purchased a one-trip plane ticket, and money for a cab fare felt heavy in her raincoat pocket. Tightening her grip on her suitcase, she walked forward, keeping her head held high. Casting a look down to her watch, she swore. The time read 12:58. There was only two minutes to get onto the ferry.

She nearly sprinted over to the ticket booth. Shoving people aside, ignoring their choruses of irritation, she rapped on the window. "Excuse me?" The woman shook her hair out, wringing it like a rag. "Excuse me?" She was growing more impatient. The woman couldn't afford to have her plan fail.

The ticket booth operator- a stocky, liver-spotted, portly man well into his fifties- turned around and grinned toothily at her, ogling her shapely figure. "Sorry, ma'am," he said, his voice tinged with a heavy Southern accent. "We ain't sellin' any more tickets. Haven't you heard? The hurricane's comin' in fast." He tossed a worried look to the gray sky.

"I need to get on that ferry," the woman said. She closed her eyes, hugging her arm to her stomach. On inspection, she couldn't have been more than seventeen, but her commanding air suggested otherwise. She took a deep breath. "I don't have time for this," she muttered to herself. Then she turned a sunny smile to the man. "Give me a ticket," she said softly. Her words seemed to run over the man soothingly, persuasively, and, as if in a daze, he blinked, nodding.

"That'll be nineteen dollars," he said stupidly. "Whas' your name?" This seemed to be the first question to truly halt the woman. She froze, a smile on her face that was slowly slipping from the corners of her mouth. The woman was running from her home, after all, and she knew that there would be several people that would track her down.

She closed her eyes, and it was as if she was reliving memories. Taking a deep breath, she blinked. "My name is Rose," she said, plastering on a smile. "Rose Lucas." The man seemed to nod, not even asking for identification. The woman slapped a twenty down into his palm, and, in a stupid daze, he gave her a ticket. "Keep the change," she called, walking away.

Just as the ferry operators were about to close the ramps, she waved her hand. "Sorry!" she said, her voice sweet. They stopped, gaping at her. The woman was easily the most beautiful that they had ever seen, but as the woman ran up the stairs, tripping in her heels, she seemed to morph. Her high cheekbones and angular face became round, her golden curls became a straight brown braid, and her shapely dress hung off the new, stick-thin woman that was standing in front of them. They shook their heads, doing a double take, as she hurried onto the ferry.

The woman took a deep breath, thanking her luck that the men hadn't stopped to question. She gazed down at her morphed hand, looking at the new shape. She turned it upside down, grabbing the edge of her braid. She closed her eyes, and was overcome with memories. A pair of arms, around her body, a kiss, a boy smelling of baking bread and snow, two scents that should have been impossible together, but weren't, somehow.

The woman's name was not Rose Lucas. She didn't know anyone named Rose, and she was in love with a man by the name of Lucas. A man that she was leaving behind. A tear slipped out of her eye, and as the ferry slowly went into motion, leaving behind Nantucket, she prayed that she was doing the right thing. The woman's name was Helen Hamilton, and she was leaving behind everything.

The woman turned around, walking to a bench. She sat down, putting her face into her hands. To an outsider, she would have just been a normal, thin woman in her late twenties, but, in reality, she was much more than that. Hugging her arms to her chest, she seemed to flicker for one moment, her brown braid becoming golden curls, her round face becoming sharper, her lips becoming fuller, and her body filling out her dress. It was just for a moment, and then she was Rose Lucas once more.

The Nantucket Ferry pulled out of the dock, sailing away to the mainland. The woman felt for the plane ticket in her hand. _Paris, _she thought. Her eyes turned to the horizon. It was a new life, one that she knew would be good for her, and, as she turned her line of sight down to her stomach, her baby.

The woman never noticed the man standing on the sidewalk, staring at the ferry. He had dark hair, water glistening in the strands. Raindrops dripped down from his hair, pattering on his face. His expression was stony, his brilliantly blue eyes piercing. His clothes were sopping wet, but he didn't seem to notice, or care. His name was Lucas Delos, and, as he sat there, a million things going through his mind, he let the woman go. He didn't know why she was leaving, or for what, and at that moment, he had never felt more betrayed in his entire life.

In a house, on the other side of the island, a family was slowly waking up. It was early in the morning, and they had yet to discover that two members were missing: a boy named Lucas, and a girl named Helen. One would return, and one would go on, forever living her life as Rose Lucas. That was her plan, anyway. The family on Siasconset wouldn't find out that Helen ran away until hours later, when a boy named Hector found his younger cousin standing at the edge of a sidewalk, staring out at the horizon for a ship that had left a long time ago. On another house, people were waking; a man named Jerry, and a woman named Kate. They wouldn't find out that Helen was missing until, in a frantic hope, they called Hector, finding only bad news.

Helen Hamilton left the island and her home. She left it for many reasons, but that is far, far ahead in our story. I am but a narrator, telling the story of a woman named Rose Lucas, her daughter, and the life that she left behind.

It was not until many years later that Helen met the family again, after many things had changed. She was never forgotten, however, and the Fates certainly hadn't forgotten.

I am a narrator. My job is to tell the great stories. This is a good story- a story of heartbreak, finding, love, beauty, jealousy, and desperation- everything that makes a story good. It is not my story, however. It is the story of another girl.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Juliette Lucas.

This is her story.

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**A/N: Thus ends my prologue. I hope that all of you who read it enjoyed it. This is going to be a little bit of a Next Generation FanFiction, but it's not really based on events in the Next Generation character; it's based on events in Helen's life, and how her choices impacted the Delos family. This is also a really short prologue- my chapters will hopefully be around 4,000-5,000 words, half the size of my normal chapter. This story probably won't be very long, though- I'd estimate 20,000 words when it's all said and done. Updates will probably be every Wednesday, unless I can't. **

**Please review! Let me know what you think! I love constructive criticism- tell me what I'm messing up on!**


	2. Chapter One

_**A/N: I know, I know. I'm two days later than I said I would update. I'm really sorry about that. From now on, I'll either update on Wednesday or Friday, but I am on vacation, so updates might be spotty for the next week and a half to two weeks. This is all in a narrator's format, too, which is a new story-style for me. Let me know what you think on that, please. Constructive criticism is appreciated!**_

_**Thanks to the guest reviewer (Izzy) who reviewed! I'm glad you enjoyed it!**_

_**Here's chapter one! Enjoy and please review! ;)**_

_**Key: **_

_**Narrator: bold**_

_**Dictionary: underline**_

_**Story: regular**_

_**Author's notes: bold italic**_

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-1-

French-English terms: 

1). _maman _(French) mom/mum/mama (English)

2). _au de chocolat _(French) chocolate milk (English)

ΩΩΩ

**I am a narrator.**

** My job is to tell the stories that need to be told. In a world as large as ours, with seven billion people, there are many stories to tell. I tell the tales that most need to be heard. Of course, I tell the stories of one family in particular: the Delos family. This is a story about that family, and a girl who doesn't know her real last name.**

** It is the story of a little girl named Juliette Lucas. She's a troublesome girl, much unlike her mother, who has done her best to raise her in Juliette's nine years on the earth. We begin our story a decade after Helen Hamilton left the island of Nantucket- and, as you no doubt know, a lot can happen in a decade.**

** Our story starts on a rainy day in Paris, the city of love. The irony in the city that Helen chose to raise her daughter is tragic: she left her own true love behind to travel to the city of love. Juliette, of course, sees none of the irony. She doesn't even know her true heritage.**

** The story I am about to tell is one of truth. It is one of mystery, drama, hate, fear, and, most of all, love. The story is one that needs to be told, and as such, I am telling it right now, weaving it and writing it.**

** Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Juliette Lucas.**

** This is her story.**

ΩΩΩ

_"If you continue being a twit, I will smack you."_

Juliette threw a glance over at her best friend, rolling her eyes. "Francie, you couldn't smack me if you tried. And I'm always going to be a twit. It's part of my natural, honest charm. I just can't help it." She grinned at her friend, the smile lighting up her pretty face.

Francine Colbart scowled at her friend. They were walking home to Juliette's apartment on their way home from school, and as Francine walked through the street, her glossy, shoulder-length brown curls bobbed up and down with each step. Cars whizzed by on the busy street, and the disgusting odor of Paris and the Seine was heavy in the air. Francine stuck out her pert chin even further, fixating her bright blue eyes on Juliette.

"Can you please stop being a twit just to be nice, then?" Francine pleaded, clasping her hands together and turning to face Juliette. "Please, Jules. I can't take much more of this. You're already wearing down my patience, and I haven't got a lot of it to give you today."

Juliette snorted. "So, what? You have a patience quota now? I've already used up all of your patience for the day, so you're going to take over my role of being a twat? Now, that's simply not fair. We've been over our roles as friends."

"Oh, not this again," Francine groaned, burying her face in her hands and stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, tripping slightly over the crack in the concrete. "Please, Jules, don't start…"

"I, as the irritatingly _amazing-"_

"You got the first part right," Francine muttered darkly, interrupting Juliette's rant. Juliette sent her friend a glare, resuming her pompous explanation of her detailed description of their roles as friends.

"I, as the utterly amazing best friend-" Francine snorted at this, though Juliette took the liberty of ignoring her. "-am allowed to be a twit. Plus, it kind of matches with my incredible personality." Juliette grinned at her friend's incredulous look. "You need to be the good one of us, because, let's face it," she continued, slinging an arm around Francine's shoulder, ignoring the bulk of the girls' backpacks that got in the way. "There's no way that I'm ever going to be a good girl. You need to _balance us out, _Frances!"

"My name is _not_ Frances," she said, scowling at Juliette.

"Frances," Juliette said, putting a hand up and stopping stock-still in the busy sidewalk, earning disgruntled looks from passerby. "I'm having a vision. Are you sharing my vision? Are you _sharing my vision, _Francie?"

Francine sent her friend a look, dragging her along and resuming their pace towards Juliette's flat. "Jules. I'm irritated, not precognitive. And I'm certainly not Raven Baxter, for God's sake. I don't have visions, I don't shout 'oh snap', 'oh no he didn't', and 'ya nasty' at completely random times."

"Frances, this just proves that you need my help. Making references to outdated American Disney sitcoms that were last on the air in 2007- _seven years ago, Frances_- just proves that you need me. I need you, you need me. We're a happy family," Juliette said, singing the last two sentences.

Francine stared at her friend. "You just made a distorted reference to _Barney. _It's 'I love you, you love me, we're a happy family', not your desperate plea to stay on your soapbox. _Barney, _Jules. I think my reference to _That's So Raven _is justified, sorry."

"Oh, is that what that's from? _Barney? _Huh. Never woulda guessed. Anyway, getting back on track to my vision- which, by the way, is in the present. I don't dwell on the past or the future, and I'm not a seer. My vision is this: me, in my amazing, somewhat hard to handle-"

Francine choked, saying, "_Somewhat?"_

"Yes! _Somewhat _hard to handle incredible personality, and your goody two-shoes nature. C'mon. We're like… what's a good reference to make here? There's got to be dozens of twin-opposites pairings. Oh! I got it!"

"No, please not another reference," Francine whined, gazing towards a building as if she'd like to slam her head against it. She and Juliette had been friends since they were in kindergarten, and though they came from different worlds- Francine came from an uptight Catholic family with her being the middle child in a string of seven children, and Juliette was an only child from a hip, single mother who raised Francine's friend completely on her own- they had instantly bonded. Much as it bothered her to admit it, Francine had to say, Juliette was right: they balanced each other out.

The pretty, blonde girl pouted at her friend. "Not even one more reference?" she said, blinking her big brown eyes sadly. Francine shook her head, putting up a hand. If there was one thing that she had learned in four years of being Juliette's best friend, it was this: when Juliette Eirene Lucas said it was just one reference, she was lying. It was always, always more than one reference. The American sitcom war could go on for ages.

"No," Francine said firmly. "Please. No more references, Jules. Stop being a twit, for the millionth time, and I understand how we complete each other, really, I do. You should take the theory to your mom- she has a degree in anthropology, right? But from now on, no more of the theories that we complete each other, or any more of the American film references. We've had enough for one walk."

Juliette grinned unexpectedly. "Good. We're already home. Now I can tell you all of my references," she said, making manic hands like a madman. Francine groaned, looking up at the building in front of them. Sure enough, it was the Lucases' cramped, tiny, slightly dilapidated apartment building. The bricks on the exterior were chipped, there were dusty AC boxes outside the grimy windows, and there were a few graffiti doodles on the first few steps. Yes, it wasn't anywhere close to as nice as Francine's classy apartment in the nicer area of the city, but she loved coming to the Lucases' flat. Despite the less-than-appealing curb-appeal, the interior was cozy and warm. There were two bedrooms, Mrs. Lucas's, and Juliette's. The kitchen, living room, and dining room were all wrapped up into one room. Yet- it was more spacious than Francine's extensive apartment. In Francine's eyes, it was absolutely perfect.

"Please," Francine groaned, though her heart was only half in her protest. They ran up the stairs, Francine tripping on a few of them as she went up. Juliette swung open the doors to the apartment building, and they entered the cool rush of air.

Juliette walked over to the metal mailboxes, pulling a key out of her uniform pocket and unlocking the mailbox. "Fine. You're no fun, Frances." Francine gritted her teeth together at the misuse of her name, but said nothing. "I try to make good references to boost up your shoddy _That's So Raven _reference."

"Hey!" she protested. "I thought that was pretty good! Better than your _Barney _reference, anyhow."

"Yes, yes, we all hear you, darling. You push down my theories. You push down my references. You push down my very _personality._" Juliette sniffled phonily, still wiggling the jammed key into the lock.

"Your personality of a twit?" Francine asked pointedly. Juliette shot her a glare, turning her attention back to the jammed lock instead.

"What is going on with the mailbox today?" She turned her attention back to Francine. "Do you think my _maman's _going to mind if I don't bring up the mail today? I mean, it's nothing important, probably. It's not Christmas, and it's nobody's birthday, so I don't really see how this is going to be anything then those magazines my _maman _likes to read and a bunch of bills."

Francine rolled her eyes to heaven. "Get the mail, Jules."

"Damn. You're probably right." Jules wiggled with the key, nearly missing Francine's instant outburst at her vulgar use of language in her complete absorbent in her mission to rescue the magazines and bills.

"_Juliette Eirene Lucas!" _

She looked up, a stray golden curl falling from her messy ponytail into her face. "What?" she said, with all of the look of an innocent teenager. "Oh, come on, Frances. I thought we've been over this. Not precognitive, see? So therefore I-"

"You swore, Jules!" Francine interrupted. "You swore! You- watch your mouth! The nuns at school will be washing your mouth out with soap by the end of the week, not to mention your mother!"

Juliette- much to Francine's annoyance- grinned. "Oh, come now, Frances. You can't possibly be angry at me for swearing. Have you heard my mother?" She tilted her head knowingly. Truth be told, Francine _had _heard Juliette's mother. Rose Lucas was many things, but a chaste non-swearer was not one of them. Still, Rose was well into her thirties. Her daughter was nine.

"My name is _not _Frances," was all Francine could think to say. Honestly, who could blame her? There was no reasoning when it came to Juliette. She wasn't easily explained to other people.

Juliette waved her hand. "Potato, potahtoh." She smirked. "I suppose you're too angry for some homemade _au de chocolat?" _She smiled knowingly. Juliette's mother made the best _au de chocolat _in all of Paris.

Francine shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous." Her mouth was watering at the mere thought of some of the cool drink. The chocolate and the milk together- they were good separately, but together, they were incredible.

The mailbox door finally swung open. Letting out a whoop of delight, Juliette snatched the mail from her box and slammed it shut, not bothering to lock it. Tucking her key inside her uniform pocket, she smiled, looking for all the world like a mischievous devil.

"Come on. Let's go empty my fridge of _au de chocolat."_

ΩΩΩ

**Such is the tale of Juliette Lucas and her best friend, Francine Colbart. They might not be the conventional two friends, but they are still an unstoppable mix. Juliette acquired the looks and grace of her mother, but deep down, she has many qualities of her father- though she is perhaps like her second uncle Hector the most. A toxic mix, to be certain. Helen- or Rose- has tried her best to raise her daughter, but things don't always turn out the way you want them to.**

** Now that we've dropped in on a look inside the life of Juliette, we're going to take a closer look at her mother. Helen Hamilton (or Rose Lucas) has fared well, considering the circumstances. As a single mother, she is employed in a successful magazine. However, today is not a normal day.**

**It is the day that everything in Rose, Juliette, and Francine's life changes.**

ΩΩΩ

_"You cannot be serious!"_

Helen Hamilton stormed across the office, her eyes wild. She smacked her hands down on her boss's desk, fuming. The smell of ozone was in the air, and she had to remind herself to take it down a few notches. Still, Helen was far from pleased. In fact, she took that back. Helen was positively furious.

Her boss, a portly man by the name of Philip Cormaux, looked up at her with a bemused smile. The man was hardly intimidated by Helen's presence. With his thinning, salt-and-pepper hair and wrinkled hands, the man well into his fifties had seen it all. He rolled his chair up to his desk, folding his hands neatly. "What can't I be serious about? Come now, Rosie, dear! We've become such great friends."

Helen's nostrils flared. "I run a _food and drink _column, Phil, not a travel column. I'm not going to spend my weekend traveling across the Atlantic!" She glared venomously at him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Cormaux leaned back in his chair, an amused smile on his face. When he first took the job running the magazine's headquarters in Paris twenty years ago, he certainly wouldn't have taken a verbal thrashing from a subsequent like this. Of course, he had long since become accustomed to the sound of printers and fax machines that permeated the small magazine office. This didn't faze him a bit. "Rose, dear," he said patiently. Over the decade that she had worked at the office- half of his career at the magazine- he had grown affectionate for the headstrong woman. "Our travel column person- that bloke… oh, I can never quite remember that man's name- had a family emergency, and this is the _third _time we've put off the Nantucket article. I need you to fly over for the weekend. I'll pay you double what I pay him." Though his words were kind, the undertone to his voice made it very clear that Helen _would _do this- or else.

"Phil, I can't just pack my things!" Helen was getting increasingly frustrated with the man. Though she had plenty of excuses, there was one prominent reason why she refused to go to Nantucket. Helen had no delusions. This was the Fates intervening. If Helen went to Nantucket, she would be found. More importantly, her baby girl- Jules- would be found. If there was one good thing that had come out of the lonely past decade, it was her little girl. Helen had burned the bridge with the Delos family- _her _family- and now Jules was all that she had left. She couldn't lose her.

"Sure you can. Rose, this is a great opportunity. A plane ticket and top-rate hotel is already paid for. All I need you to do is write a little bit about the island." Helen gritted her teeth, glaring at the man. She couldn't tell him that she was born and raised in Nantucket for the first seventeen years of her life. As far as the world knew, Rose Lucas was born and raised in New York City.

Inspiration struck Helen. "What about my daughter, Philip? I can't just leave her. There's no way that I can get her to stay at a friend's house- not with this little warning." She thought about her daughter's best friend, Francine Colbart. No; there was no way that the uptight Catholic family would take her wild daughter in. "Getting a last-minute babysitter would be impossible. I can't just pack up and leave."

Cormaux waved his hand. "Done. I'll arrange for a plane ticket for your daughter to Nantucket as well, and for double bed hotel accommodations. Come on. Think of how much your daughter would enjoy going on a vacation like this. All expenses paid for, first-class, just for the weekend… It'll be perfect."

"No." Helen didn't even have to hesitate. Nantucket was a small island, she knew. Even if she kept up her disguise, Juliette wore Helen's face. Even if Helen managed to keep Jules hidden, Lucas saw right through Helen's disguised face. She rubbed her face. This was why she should have found a safe place for Jules, as Daphne had done for her. It would have been simpler. Yet… Helen knew firsthand what it was like to grow up without a mom. Though she knew that Juliette missed having a dad, it made her feel better to have her daughter by her side. Now she was paying the price.

"This isn't up for negotiation," Cormaux said, shuffling some papers with a mild expression on his face. Helen was grasping at straws. What would make that insufferable man leave her and her daughter alone?

"Juliette has severe motion sickness," Helen said immediately. It was the best thing that she could come with. Claire- she thought her best friend's name with a pang- had always had motion sickness. Claire hated anything that had to do with motion: cars, boats, planes, you name it.

Cormaux shot up his eyebrows incredulously at Helen's week request. "Perhaps she should take some Dramamine then, now shouldn't she?" _Damn him. Plan A thwarted, _Helen thought glumly.

"I'm afraid of heights." This, of course, wasn't even remotely true. Though Helen hadn't flown since her days on Nantucket, and she was almost positive that Jules could fly, she wasn't afraid of heights. She thought back to her daughter's powers. Helen did the best that she could trying to control them, but there was the freak accident. Since Helen had given Jules the weapon half of the girdle when she was a baby, there had been more than a few calls to her daughter's school about electrical shortages. Helen wasn't sure how powerful Juliette was, but she seemed to inherit more of her father's powers than her mother's, which was a welcome relief. Helen couldn't put the curse cramps on her daughter –she had suffered that as a child and she didn't want Jules to have to undergo the same pain- but all the same, she knew a few of her daughter's powers that would likely make her extremely feared in the Scion world.

Cormaux chuckled at her, startling her out of her dark reverie. "Try again, dear. That's not going to work on me, and, quite frankly, I'd be very surprised if it worked on anyone. You're many things, but afraid of the sky? Not likely."

_Yes, well. I'm more related to the sky than you think, _Helen thought childishly. Finally, she grasped at her last straw: the truth. Or what she could tell Cormaux, anyway. "Phil, I can't go," she said miserably. She willed herself to look as upset as possible. It wasn't hard. She wondered what she would tell him. That Juliette's father was in Nantucket, and Helen knew exactly what would happen if she went there? That there were painful memories long forgotten?

His face softened. "Come now. What's this really about, Rose? We've been colleagues for a long while now, and you're my best columnist. If anyone should write the column, it should be you. I wanted to rope you into this job a long time ago, but you had a daughter. What's this all about?"

Helen figured that she could bend the truth a little. Tell the story, essentially, but bury it so deep under a mountain of lies that Rose's tale was so far different from Helen's that they were incomparable. "My ex-husband," she blurted out. Well, painful as it was to admit, that certainly wasn't the truth. She had always thought that she would be married to Luke, but things had gone a bit differently. They hadn't exactly gotten married at seventeen. "He lives in Nantucket. I- I don't want to bring my daughter there, Phil. I can't. He didn't know that I was pregnant when I left and now… I don't want to lose her. I can't." Well, that had been a little too much like Helen of Nantucket's story than Rose of New York City's story.

Cormaux's expression was unreadable. For a moment, Helen wondered if he had heard what she said until he spoke. "Your ex," he mused quietly. His eyes blinked up at Helen. He sighed. "This makes it so much harder, but you're my only free worker, Rose." He sounded genuinely apologetic. "I need to get this Nantucket column done. I'm sure that your ex isn't even still there. You won't lose your daughter. I mean, how recognizable can the two of you be?"

Helen almost laughed outright at that absurdity. He had no idea what they were, much less who and how recognizable. For a moment, she closed her eyes, and pictured Lucas. She saw him smile, his blue eyes piercing. Not for the first time, she wished that Juliette had a little of him in her. Helen missed him like hell every day of her life. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She would give anything to see him again, but she couldn't. Her heart ached.

This could be an opportunity to see Hector again, and hear him call her 'Princess' for the first time in a decade. She could see Andy, and be hugged by her, hearing her smooth words flow over her. Helen could see Jase and Claire- oh, gods, _Claire. _Her best friend in the world. She could see Ariadne, and Orion, her Underworld Buddy. She could get taunted and teased by Cassandra again. Helen could hug Noel, eat her delicious food, and then have a chat with Luke, Pallas, and Castor, just like she used to. Helen could see her _father, _and Kate. A sob hitched in the back of her throat when she thought of seeing Lucas again. She… _Don't go there, Helen, _she chastised herself. _It was a long time ago. Put it behind you. _It was too bad that putting things behind her constantly seemed like an impossible task. A tear almost slipped down her cheek. She wanted it all so, so badly.

"I can't." The moment the words were out of her mouth, Helen regretted them. "I'm sorry, Phil, I just can't do this. I'll do anything else, cover any other story, but I can't go back to that island."

"Then you're fired." Phil didn't even blinked, though he looked contrite. "I'm sorry, Rose, but this is what I need you to do. If you fail to meet the standards, then I'll have to fire you." He looked apologetic.

Helen's mind was whirling. Money was tight right now. Lose her job, and she would plunge Jules and her into poverty. On the other hand, if she went to Nantucket, she had no delusions. She would come face-to-face with the Delos clan again. It was only a matter of time.

She made a split-second decision. "I want my daughter's friend to come too." Helen knew that there were big secrets in Juliette's life that were about to be torn up, and there wasn't much that she could do about that, but Jules was going to need a familiar face. When Juliette met her father- Helen had no doubt that she would meet her father this weekend- she was going to need someone to cry to. And Helen probably wouldn't be around for that. She would be too busy getting pounded into a pulp by Hector- and the rest of the Delos family. She had no idea what she had even done to Lucas when she was gone.

"Fine." Cormaux didn't even hesitate. "She will be bought an additional plane ticket, whatever her name is." He smiled at her, knowing that she won.

Helen stood up, and there was the smell of ozone in the air. "And one more thing? You had better be ready to pay me a shitload of money, you jackass." She slammed her hands down. The lights flickered overhead, and all the metal in the room began to rattle. She was attracting stares, she knew, but didn't care. The heat rose to a blistering temperature. Cormaux looked terrified, and Helen knew that she had probably flickered back to her true form, but she couldn't find the incentive to care. When she removed her hands, there were two print-shaped dents in the desk. Cormaux stared at his work desk in horror, gaping down at what Helen had just done.

She didn't care.

Hell was about to break loose, and Helen Hamilton wasn't even remotely ready for it.

ΩΩΩ

**Such ends our first chapter.**

** Helen Hamilton's life has changed drastically, and Juliette doesn't even know all of who she is. And Francine? She is the bystander who is about to be caught in the deadly cross-fire. It is Friday, May 7, 2014, and all hell is about to break loose.**

** Nobody is ready for it. Not even in the Delos household.**

**Which reminds me. As a narrator, I need to check up on how our fair Lucas and his family is doing…**

**Next chapter, my dear readers. Everything will be revealed in time.**

ΩΩΩ


	3. Chapter Two

_**A/N: I'm off hiatus! Whoop whoop! I know, I know: it's pretty soon. But, as it turns out, I've got a lot of ideas and stupid overflowing need to write, so I'm just going to have to write like a madwoman constantly. :) **_

_**A note about this chapter: **_**How Times Have Changed ****_delves both into the past, present, and future. Time moves quickly. If you are a skimmer, _****_do not skim_**_**over the narrator parts. The narrator is a character, too, and very, very important to the plot of the book.**_

_**With that... please enjoy! Thanks to reviewers!**_

**-2-**

French-English terms:

3). _Dieu _(French) God (English)

4). _Mon _(French) My (English)

5). _Fillete _(French) Girlie (English)

ΩΩΩ

**The Delos family.**

**A lot has happened to them all over the years. I'm not going to go into details- not just yet. This is a story, after all, and it's not even close to being finished. There will be time for all of that later- much later. I, as a narrator, even have secrets of my own. There will be a divulging of all secrets, but that's much later to come.**

**For now, we comfort ourselves with scenes from the past. To be precise, one particular scene in particular. It's the day that Hector found Lucas, sopping wet in the rain, just hours after he watched Helen sail away on the Nantucket Ferry, watching the water for a ship that will never come.**

**It's just hours after Helen Hamilton became Rose Lucas.**

ΩΩΩ

_Hector Delos squinted through the rain._

It came in a downpour, trees swaying and leaves flying in the wind. A tattered newspaper weakly fluttered from one side of the street to the next. Hector zeroed in on the headline with his advanced eyesight, looking through the rain. _HURRICANE JAMES DEVASTATES SOUTHEASTERN COAST, _it read. Hector pressed his lips firmly together. They were on the northeastern coast, but it wasn't far away enough from the storm.

He groaned, swearing quietly under his breath. Lucas and Helen had gone six hours ago, and neither of them were answering their phone. When Hector tried Helen's phone, it went straight to an error tone, with the _beep, beep, beep _of the disconnected. As for Lucas's- well, that one just went straight to voicemail.

"This is not the time for a weekend rendezvous," Hector muttered under his breath, pulling a hand through his blond hair. He thought back to home, where everyone was in a frenzy, attempting to find Lucas and Helen in the storm. Once Hector found them, they were both dead. He would make sure of it.

His brand-new tennis shoes splashed through puddles, spraying muddy water everywhere. "Great," he said. "Just what I needed." He shook off his leg, looking for all the world like a dog. All he needed to do was shake his hair, making water droplets every which way.

He looked up into the sky, seeing the gray mass of clouds. If they sank any lower, they'd be brushing against the soil, creating a blanket of fog for the earth. Thunder crackled in the sky, and Hector threw a glance upwards, wrinkling his brow. He might be immortal, but he was still fairly sure that getting struck by lightning would still burn.

His eyes darted around, looking for a safe shelter. Squinting through the rain, he spotted the Nantucket Ferry ticket booth. It was deserted, of course; everyone with a decent helping of common sense had already huddled into their homes, but there was still a roof to huddle under. Swiftly, he jogged under the ticket booth, taking it as shelter for the rain. Six hours ago, Lucas and Helen had gone off the map. Hector desperately wished that they wouldn't do stupid things like this. It would be nice to give his family a little bit of peace and mind.

Hector squinted through the downpour, but even his eyesight couldn't permeate shapes through the thick mist. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, wishing that he had a dry piece of clothing. Instead, his t-shirt was sopping wet, and his trousers were soaked through with rain. He thought longingly of the sun-filled days of Madrid.

Yet, however much Hector wished for it hours later, the fog and rain weren't thick enough to mask a dark blob. Hector moved forward a few cautious steps, squinting into the distance in front of him with some difficulty. As he did so, the blob solidified into a wavering outline of a person, standing on the edge of the deck, looking out onto the water. Hector pressed his lips firmly together. He didn't know what this person was doing, standing so close to the water in the middle of a storm. The Atlantic was treacherous, and Hector knew this from personal experience. The Atlantic Ocean had the kind of bluish-grayish tinge to it that suggested it could turn either way. On some days, it was a brilliant blue, on others, a dark, angry gray. Today was one of the gray days. Hector could practically feel the power of the waves in his fingertips.

"Hey!" he shouted, his voice slightly hoarse as he yelled above the din of the storm. "Step away from the water!" Hector briefly considered using some stronger words than that, but as soon as the suggestion came to him, he pushed it away. That person needed no encouragement to jump.

The blob didn't respond. Hector grumbled in frustration, taking a few steps out of the protection of the ticket booth. "Move it," he called. "You're going to get yourself killed!" At this point, Hector wasn't sure whether or not this was the person's objective. This action was seriously suicidal.

Still, the dark shape remained impassive. Hector narrowed his eyes. The only people in the world that defied him were his family, Andy, Claire, and Helen. That wasn't a very large number. Hector wasn't a fool- he had a very authoritative voice. It wasn't persuasive, like Andy's voice, or seductive, like Helen's, but he held enough command in his stride so that it didn't matter. The person standing before him was family. Hector was sure of it.

Cursing colorfully under his breath, Hector walked to the figure, wiping his eyes, and looking up at the sky with a dirty expression on his face. He had never trusted the sky wholly since he was born: too many reminders of Zeus and what he just might do to all of them if given the chance. Even after Zeus was banished, Hector still kept this as a careful reminder, a private thought shared only with his heart and his head.

When Hector finally recognized the figure in front of him, he froze. _Shit. _This wasn't good. Not good at all. Lucas was standing here. It wasn't, as he had hoped, a member of his family, on the lookout for the pair as he was. It was Lucas himself- without Helen.

That didn't bode well.

In the years to come, Hector would wish countless times to have not been the one that found Lucas there. He had prayed that he hadn't been the one to first see the expression on Lucas's face. It was an expression that Hector had only seen a brief number of times, and every single one of those times, it had to do with Helen. This was the worst expression, though. It was the empty expression of indifference. It was an expression that Lucas would wear for a while after that.

It was an expression that would never truly go away, not altogether. Even a decade later, Hector still got flashes of it: when someone talked about how Lucas used to fly, when someone mentioned Helen's name accidentally, or when Jerry and Kate came over occasionally.

Back in the present, Hector's heart sank. He walked over to Lucas, his gaze questioning. Lucas didn't meet his eyes. Now that Hector was closer, he got a better look at his cousin. Lucas was standing on the pier, his blue eyes staring out at the gray, stormy sea with a dull expression, as if waiting for something- or, more likely, Hector thought darkly, someone. Lucas's dark hair hung in matted tangles around his face.

"Lucas," Hector said quietly, willing his younger cousin to _listen. _"Where is Helen?" Somewhere, in his mind, Hector was still praying that Helen was just around the corner, coming back to Lucas. Hector knew it was naïve, and foolish. This wouldn't be the first time that Helen had tried to run. She had attempted it several times before, and she would do it again.

Lucas didn't respond. Hector bit back his impatience, and took Lucas by the shoulders. "Lucas," Hector repeated, more forcefully. "_Where is Helen Hamilton_?" Lucas stared emptily into Lucas's face, unmoving as a wax sculpture. "_Lucas._"

For a moment, Hector almost thought that Lucas wasn't going to respond. That moment passed, however, and Lucas spoke. "Gone," he said. One word. It was the only word that he would say for days.

In that moment, Hector had a thousand questions that he wanted to ask, all bubbling to the surface like a bottle of carbonated soda freshly opened. Yet, as he saw Lucas's face, and the water, the unforgiving charcoal gray of a storm, Hector said nothing. He didn't take out his phone to call his family, or call Jerry and Kate. He simply took one look at Lucas's face and sighed.

Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, Hector led Lucas to an old wooden bench on the dock. It had a brass plate, dedicated to some ship captain long gone by. Hector had no doubt that it had seen tears many times before. It was the Nantucket Ferry dock, after all. Years ago, when Nantucket had been nothing more than a whaling island, wives had no doubt waved goodbye to their husbands, praying that they would return. The dock had seen tears before.

And that rainy day, it would see a few more.

ΩΩΩ

**That day had been the end of a chapter for the Delos family.**

**It would be a while before Hector took out his phone and called his family. What he said to them wasn't even half the explanation that Lucas had given him- Hector had simply said, "Nantucket Ferry" and hung up. It was all the explanation that either of them were prepared to give.**

**We now fast-forward a few weeks, to mid-April. The Delos and Hamilton families alike have taken the hit of Helen's disappearance, and still, they don't know how or why she left. Their only hope is Lucas, and there isn't a conversational bone in his body at the moment. **

**We go forward to April 13, the day of the poster.**

ΩΩΩ

_"__What the hell is this?"_

Hector Delos stormed into Nantucket High School with a vehement look on his face, brandishing a piece of paper. "What the _hell _is this doing around town?" He fumed, smoke nearly coming out of his ears. None of the Delos or Hamilton family members were in their right minds in those days, and Hector was no exception. He took to dealing with the problem in the typical Hector way: with ridiculous outbursts of anger. And with no Lucas to tone him down, he was nearly unstoppable.

"Hector!" Cassandra's voice cut through the air like a whip, cruel and unstoppable. Even so, Hector was still angry, though his younger sister marched right up to him with a furious expression on her own face. "Control yourself," she said, more quietly now that she was closer to him.

"I'm not going to control myself, Cass," he said, making no efforts to keep his voice down. "Do you know what Lucas would do if he saw this?" Hector's eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets. "Well? Do you?"

Cassandra sighed. "Hector-"

"He would go _ballistic_! Absolutely and completely ballistic!" Hector raved, throwing his hands up. "Who put these posters up, anyway? And whoever they are, have they completely lost their minds?" He ran a hand through his hair agitatedly.

"I'm not sure that Lucas has it together enough to go ballistic," Cassandra said sharply. Hector threw her a dirty look. "Well, it's the truth. He's at home, in bed, moving about as much as a house cat. Less, actually, now that I think about it," she reproved, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Can you blame him? Helen walked out on him. She walked out on all of us." Hector gritted his teeth. "She left him standing there on the dock, just looking out at the ocean with the Expression of Nothingness."

Cassandra groaned. "We've been through this, Hector. We don't know for sure that's what actually happened. And even if it did happen, Helen might have had a reason." She pursed her lips, and Hector got the feeling that she knew a little bit more than she was letting on.

"Cass?" Hector's voice was dangerous. "Did you have a vision?" Hector had balled his hands into fists without even realizing it. Though none of the Delos and Hamilton families were emotionally stable, Hector was a particularly special case.

"Of course not," Cassandra snapped. At Hector's reproving look, she practically snarled at him. "If I had a vision, don't you think that you would have known by now? My visions aren't exactly inconspicuous."

"Well, then do you know something that we don't?" Cassandra threw him an exasperated look. "What? It's a fair question. All I'm saying is that this is a bombshell to all of us except for you. That brings a few inquiries to mind."

"I just wasn't exactly… surprised," she said slowly. Hector narrowed her eyes at her. With an exasperated sigh, Cassandra tightened her lips, grabbed him by the front of his chest, and dragged him over to a corner. A few students gave them odd glances, but by then, most of Nantucket was used to the Delos family's odd antics. With a swift jerk of her other arm, Cassandra opened up a janitor's closet, stuffing Hector and her inside.

For a moment, the closet was pitch black, with nothing but the smell of antiseptics to alert Hector that he was in a janitor's closet at all. Then there was a click, and Cassandra turned on a single burning bulb with a string. Hector was fairly sure that he saw a few spiders scuttle away from them both.

"Cassandra, why did you drag me in here?" Hector said, clearly cranky.

"Shh," she whispered. With a sigh, she continued. "Can you keep a secret?" It was so juvenile a phrase: _'Can you keep a secret?' _that Hector almost laughed. When he saw Cassandra's anxious face, however, he tampered down the giggles in favor of a serious face.

"Of course," he said. "Now, honestly, why did you drag me into a janitor's closet? What's so important that you can't tell anybody else about this? And, above all, why are you telling me?"

Cassandra bit her lip. "I mean it, Hector. Swear on the River Styx you aren't going to tell anybody about what I tell you in here. Swear it." Hector moved to protest, but Cassandra gripped his arm, her hands shooting out. "_Swear it._"

Hector looked faintly alarmed. Swallowing down his protests, he said, "Fine." He took a deep breath. "I swear on the River Styx that I will not vouch any of this sacred information told to me whilst in this janitor's closet." He wrinkled his nose.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Cassandra seemed to relax, if only fractionally. She took a deep breath. Then, unexpectedly, she hugged her arms to her chest fiercely. "I wasn't surprised that Helen left because… well…"

"Well, what?" Hector said impatiently. "Out with it already, Cass."

"I saw her buying plane tickets!" Cassandra exploded. For a moment, there was only silence. Hector stared at her in shock, all of the color slowly draining from his face. Cassandra went on, the words tumbling out of her quickly. "I just- I- I went over to her house, because Lucas was there, and Jason needed Lucas for something or other- I can't even remember now- and Jerry opened the door for me. I told him that I needed to see Lucas, and he just kind of grumbled and sent me up to Helen's room, thinking that Lucas wasn't there. Except for Luke… kind of… flew out." Cassandra's voice trailed away. Hector was still silent, and she took this as a sign to go on.

"Helen was alone, and her back was facing me. I saw… I saw Expedia on her computer. I didn't see where she was going, or how many plane tickets she was buying, but…" Cassandra stuffed down a cry. "When I asked her about it, she said that she was just trying to get tickets for her and Luke, which didn't make any sense, but then she said that they were going to stay for a few nights, and needed luggage, and I still knew that something was off. I _knew _it, even when she made me swear not to tell anyone, saying that it was a surprise. I knew something was off, but she made me swear anyway. And now she's gone, and it's all my fault. I could have stopped her, but I didn't. I knew that Helen was going to leave."

There was still silence. Hector had put his head in his hands. When he took it back up, his face was still colorless. It was a true sign of how truly shocked he was that he didn't even swear. "Why?" he said. It was the only word that he could think to say, and in that moment, it was a true question. He cleared his raspy throat, trying again. "Why didn't you stop her?"

Cassandra looked away. "I can't."

"You have to," Hector told her. "Cassandra, Helen walked away from all of us. We need to know why you didn't stop her, and we need to know it now." His voice had taken on a dangerous edge. Hector could count the times that he had been angry at Cassandra on one hand, but this was quickly topping the list.

"No!" Cassandra said, her eyes widening. "No, Hector, you don't understand. There can't be a 'we'. You are going to be the only person who knows about this. Is that clear?" His cousin had gained a bit of her authoritative, I'm-always-right-no-matter-what-happens persona. Hector wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing at this point.

He swore. "Cassandra, you have to tell them. You can't keep this from Lucas, not forever. Secrets are meant to be found out." His eyes were dark, but Cassandra was unresponsive. In that moment, it was a test of wills: Hector against Cassandra. Hector finally lost, cursing. "Gods almighty, Cass." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Tell me why you stopped her."

Cassandra's façade melted, and she was back to the weak, shaking creature that she was before. "I can't."

Hector banged his fist on the wall. His younger cousin jumped at the sudden sound. "Why _not_?" he demanded, his eyes blazing. "I am at the end of my rope with you, Cassandra Delos. Maybe I can't tell anybody, but you can. And you should. The very least you can do right now is tell me why you didn't stop her."

"I can't," Cassandra repeated, her lower lip trembling. "You'll think I'm an awful person."

"Well, I'm getting pretty close to thinking that anyway, so out with it, already," Hector said. This seemed to be enough for Cassandra to finally put things into perspective. Hector's withering look, while not enough to win in a true test of wills, was enough to win when she was guilty like she was at the moment.

"I hate Helen." The words came out quick, so quiet, and timid that nothing but a Scion could have understood them. Hector inhaled sharply, but Cassandra continued. "I mean it. I really, really do. Can't stand her. She's just so… ignorant. Strong-willed. She doesn't deserve the powers that she has. And she breaks people's hearts. Over and over again." Cassandra looked down at her hands. "She's broken Lucas's heart more times than any of us can count. She's the Tyrant, and not nearly smart enough to wield the powers that she has at her disposal." She set her jaw, returning to her fierce personality. "And she broke Orion's heart."

There was the root of the problem. Hector exhaled, leaning back against the cinderblock wall of the janitor's closet. Truth be told, he couldn't argue with anything that his younger cousin said. Hector was furious with Helen, and even though he missed her, it was at the point where anger was more dominant than the nostalgia.

"Cassandra," he finally said, breaking the long, tense silence. "I…" he began carefully. "I don't agree with what you did." His eyes were piercing. "I'll never agree with it." Cassandra wilted. "That being said," Hector continued, making her head snap up, "I understand it."

With that, Hector straightened, opened the door, and walked back out into the now-deserted hallways.

Later, in history class, sitting next to Jason, the teacher barked at him testily for being late. Hector simply shrugged, taking the detention slip and taking his seat at the back of the room, next to Jason. His brother furrowed his eyebrows at him, leaning in and whispering, "What's up? Why are you late?"

At that moment, Cassandra walked through the door. As per usual, the teacher didn't even notice her, and she simply slunk into her seat. Hector could feel her eyes boring a hole between his shoulder blades. Hector knew the right thing to do, and, at the same time, he knew the consequences.

"Nothing," he finally said. "Nothing at all." Behind him, Cassandra sagged in relief. The still-intact parts of the Delos family were worth preserving, he thought to himself. His words to Cassandra were true. He didn't agree with her choice, but he understood it.

With a shake of his head, Jason leaned away from his brother. Throughout the class, he continued to throw suspicious glances Hector's way, but Jason missed the most suspicious part of Hector's behavior.

At the very end of class, after everyone had left- even the teacher- Hector was alone. Slowly, he took out the crumpled piece of paper from earlier, the one that had sparked his argument with Cassandra. Carefully, he smoothed it out on the table, until the face on the poster stared up at him.

_LOST, _it read. _HELEN HAMILTON, SEVENTEEN YEARS OF AGE, GOES MISSING. _Underneath the caption, it had a picture of Helen, her pretty face split into a traffic-stopping smile. Though it was in black and white, there was no mistaking her. Helen's brown eyes stared back at Hector from the photo, and they seemed to be sending a message.

_Help me, _her eyes pleaded.

ΩΩΩ

**There was more than one convict in the crime of Helen's disappearance.**

**No one in the Delos family besides Hector ever found out about Cassandra's betrayal. Hector swore his secrecy, and it is up to Cassandra to divulge the information, though Hector still heavily suspects that Cassandra will carry the secret with her to her grave. **

**But, after all, secrets have a way of being found out. **

**I know that better than anyone else. The story of the Delos family is not yet complete- but it will be revealed in time. This is a story, after all, and it would be spoiled if I divulged too many of my secrets. There are other parts of the story, and it is with this that I bring us back to the present, into the company of fair Helen Hamilton- or, as she is known now, Rose Lucas.**

**We fast-forward into a small crook of Paris, into a taproom known as ****_L'oiseau Chantant, _****or the Singing Bird. It is here that Helen finds her top-notch psychiatrist, and here that Helen divulges some of her secrets.**

**And as for my secrets as a narrator…**

**Well, those will be revealed in time.**

ΩΩΩ

_The shot glass slammed on the countertop with a loud _clop.

Helen Hamilton leaned back in her chair, the warm burn of tequila slowly sliding down her throat. Her mind was still reeling with what she agreed to do. She grimaced. If her bills weren't as bad as they were at present, there was no way that she would have taken the job. As it was, though, they were on the verge of bankruptcy. If Helen hadn't kept the job, they would be completely broke. She looked wistfully at the shot glass. Helen wanted to get wasted tonight, but, unfortunately, the liabilities of being a single mother were weighing down at her. She checked her watch. Her personal psychiatrist was already a few minutes late. A few more, and it would be too late: Helen would already be late.

Fortunately, she didn't have to wake up. The door to the bar opened, a cool breeze sweeping through briskly. Helen looked up, seeing an imposing woman walk through the door. The woman had a long mass of wild black tangles, bright, intensely blue eyes, and a long, sharp nose and thin lips. What the woman lacked in beauty she more than made up for in personality. Her six-foot frame towered over some of the men, and in her four-inch heels, she strutted around, tall and thin as a stick. Her arching cheekbones served to enhance her prominent nose, but she wore it proudly. With the woman's loud blue, low-cut satin shirt and skin-tight black leather pants, she attracted attention. The woman spotted Helen, who waved her over to Helen's spot at the bar.

"_Dieu_," the woman said admirably, looking at the empty shot glass in front of Helen. "Did you already finish that? I'm glad I came. This certainly is an emergency. Rose Lucas is actually wanting to get laid tonight." She grinned.

"No. _Dieu, _no. Calm down." Helen sent the woman a dirty look. "Viviane, it's nothing like that. I've got a crisis on my hands." My voice began to tremble. "A real, down-to-earth crisis. And I'm not even sure that there's a solution." Helen's face dropped into her hands.

Viviane studied her friend closely. "Rose, honey, twenty minutes ago you sent me an urgent text saying 'SOS'. In the past, you have sent me that text when there was a crisis about which _color of shirt _to buy." She stared at her Rose cryptically. "How much did you already drink?"

"Only the one," Helen said, gesturing at her empty glass. "This is serious, Viv. I'm actually not entirely certain that there's a way out of this situation. I need to find one, though. Badly." She groaned.

"Oh, no." Viviane cursed under her breath, and pulled up a chair. "Okay. Give me the background on the situation- colors of the shirt, type of shirt, material of shirt, etcetera, etcetera." Helen gave her friend a dirty look. "What? It's a valid concern."

Helen took a deep breath. "Look. The thing is… the travel guy at my work is absent. He's been absent for a while now, and he's not able to do my assignment, so my boss handed it over to me." She waited, clearly hoping this would have an impact on Viviane.

Instead, she was simply checking her reflection in a compact mirror, reapplying her lipstick. "Wha?" she said, mid-application. She sighed, snapping her mirror shut and closing her tube of lipstick. "Fine. I still don't see what the problem is. You get to take over the travel guy's job. Isn't that a good thing? Don't you get to travel places?"

"Well, ordinarily, yes," Helen said. "But there's also a few complications. The first complication is Jules, and her friend, Francine. You remember Francie, right?"

"Of course I remember her. Short, shoulder-length bouncy curls, impish grin, cross at her neck. Very religious. Stick up her ass. Did I miss anything?" Viviane examined her hand closely. "On another note, I just got my nails painted. What do you think? Like the color? I was kind of on the fence."

"Why am I friends with you?" Helen asked no one in particular. Nevertheless, she glanced at Viviane's hands. "Yes. I like the color. Pink is nice on you. And, yes, Francie is Jules's very conservative friend. I may have- sort of- invited them both on vacation."

"So what? Didn't you say that Francine had this huge family, and that no one hardly even knew that she was missing half of the time?"

"That's not the point! If you would just quit and stop interrupting me, I could actually get to the point, and stop having this conversation!" Helen glared at her friend. "Now, _as I was saying, _I invited Francine and Jules to come with me on vacation. The only problem is, the article that I'm supposed to write is on Nantucket. It's a small whaling island off the coast of Massachusetts, though their whaling industry has changed into a tourist industry."

Viviane gazed up. "I should hope so. _Dieu, _it would be a little troublesome if they still whaled. It would also be a little illegal, now that I think about it." Viviane tapped her chin. "Do the Americans have a policy on whaling?"

"Yes. That's not the issue." Helen took a deep breath. "The issue is…" she winced, putting her head in her hands. She proceeded to speak a series of mumbled words into her hands, none of which were even remotely audible.

"You're going to have to speak up, _fillette,_" Viviane said mildly. "I can speak a lot of languages- French, moan and groan, flirty, and a bunch of other ones that I probably shouldn't tell you about, but Muffled Non-Speak from Rose isn't one of them."

"Most of those aren't real languages," Helen said. She hugged her arms to the chest. "Fine. The issue is that, well…" She gulped. "IkindofsortofmaybemetandfellinlovewithJuliette'sdadinNantucket."

Viviane blinked. "Wait, _what_? Okay, again. But slow down this time, if you please." She massaged her temples, her blue eyes gazing at Helen incredulously.

"I met Juliette's dad on Nantucket." Helen's lower lip trembled. Viviane froze, her blue eyes instantly honing in on Helen. It wasn't often that her friend spoke of Juliette's father. Viviane had always assumed that Juliette was a string-along from an old one-night stand, but apparently, she was wrong.

Viviane inhaled sharply. "Say that again."

"I met Juliette's dad on Nantucket." Helen leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. "I was young. Really young. I met him over there, and it wasn't always perfect. At the beginning, it was awful, to tell you the truth. We… we fought. And then we fell in love. There was roadblock after roadblock, but somehow, we just fought through it all." Tears blurred in Helen's eyes. "The thing is… I left her dad. He didn't leave me."

"_Mon Dieu,_" Viviane murmured. "You aren't serious. Please tell me that you're joking. This is an actual SOS. You do realize that, right?"

"Of course I realize that," Helen snapped. "Viviane, I'm bringing my daughter to Nantucket, where my old ex is waiting for me. Do you know how small that island is? Its year-round population consists of about 10,000 people. Now, let me tell you a little something about that. Half of those people work the tourist attractions and shops, and I know pretty much all of them. If I go back there, he will find me. He knows how I look." Helen swallowed, hard, and she seemed to flicker for a moment. It was only a moment, of course, her figure wavering. Her brown hair turned to golden curls, her sharp eyes turned to soft brown ones, with a tiny lightning scar on one of them, and her lips became fuller. It was just for a moment, of course, and then Viviane shook her head, blinking several times.

"Okay. Okay." Viviane seemed to be racking through her brain. "Look. All I can say is this: there's nothing to even guarantee that your ex will find you. It's been roughly a decade, right? I can do mental math. That's a long time, especially for young people. There's a pretty good chance that he's not even living in Nantucket anymore."

Helen gazed at Viviane sadly. She couldn't say what she knew, on some instinctive level. She knew that Luke probably wasn't living on Nantucket anymore, but she also knew that she would come face-to-face with him on that island. It was the way of the Fates. They ran the show. It didn't matter whether or not they were immortal. The Fates would make sure that Helen and Lucas met again. But, of course, Viviane didn't need to know that.

"Yeah," Helen said quietly. "You're probably right."

"Of course I am. Now, listen up. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to order two of those Thursday specials that I see on that chalk board up there," Viviane said, gesturing to a board with a list of weekly drink specials. "We're going to down them, I'm going to pay the bill, and then we're going to get you home. You're going to tell your daughter and her friend. When do you leave?"

Helen looked miserable. "Friday evening. We have a red-eye, predictably enough."

"Great. You tell your daughter and her friend, and you all pack your bags. You get on that airplane, and then have a great time on vacation. You write a few words, and let loose. You're not going to run into your ex. You're going to trust me on this one." Viviane looked into Helen's eyes. "You hear me, Rose Lucas?"

Helen knew that she didn't believe Viviane, not really. It didn't matter, anyway. Even if Lucas wasn't on the island, at least one member of the Delos family was still on Nantucket- there was almost a sure guarantee- and Helen would run into them. She couldn't tell Viviane this, though. A pang went through her heart. Helen loved Viv, but she would never be Claire. She would never know all that Claire knew. At that moment, though, Helen figured that there was nothing much that she could do about it.

Instead, she plastered on a fake smile. "Yeah," she said. "I hear you.

ΩΩΩ

**Helen was right. **

**Most of the Delos family was still living on Nantucket. Their stories aren't ready to be told just yet. Cassandra still feels guilt from her past mistake, Hector is burdened by a constant secret, and Lucas is still hurting from Helen. Helen is still hurting from leaving them all behind. None of them are truly happy, and the Fates are intervening. For one of the first times, the Fates actually have good intentions.**

**It's a shame that good intentions don't always have good results.**

ΩΩΩ


End file.
